


By the Canal Lamps

by TrickySleeves



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Boats, Derdriu tourism, Established Relationship, F/M, Felileth Week (Fire Emblem), Green Magic, Shower Sex, Swimming, city portrait, geography with a sexy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:46:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25287781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrickySleeves/pseuds/TrickySleeves
Summary: They’re heroes in Fhirdiad and now it’s time to reap the rewards: a nice vacation in Derdriu, boat rides on the canal, enchanting walks across the famous Derdriu bridges, and lots of water—perhaps too much water.But when Byleth tried to deepen it, he hissed, “I’m not kissing you while you’re soaked in lagoon water.”“But you already did!” The salt brine was crinkling his hair. To the touch, he was more brittle than ever.“Fine,” he huffed into her lips, despite the danger that arousal currently posed with his clothes all wet and sticking to him and ahhhhhhh, “—Salty.”Felileth Week - Day 3
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 14
Kudos: 42





	By the Canal Lamps

**Author's Note:**

> This is an epilogue to [Like a Page from the Book of My Fantasy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23972560). However, it can stand alone.
> 
> Have been looking for the opportunity to explore Derdriu. There's also fluff and smut involved.

From the train station to the waterfront, Derdriu was a hive where businessmen eating gelato in rich suites outnumbered chic pickpockets 5-to-1.

Felix’s customary Fhirdiad suit felt hot and boxy on his shoulders. But he would hate to admit that Byleth had been right that morning when she had scowled at his wardrobe choice, saying, “It’s vacation, idiot.” As if that meant something.

Of course, Byleth had no problem swishing a sundress around her thighs, with her viola case strapped to her back, while Felix carried both of their bags. It would be one thing if people in Derdriu understood personal space, but they swarmed like workers bees competing to appease the queen. He might give Fhirdiad’s social landscape a lot of crap, but at least they understood a personal bubble.

“Keep your head, secret agent man,” Byleth bumped her lips against his cheek as they walked. “We’re almost to the flat.”

“And you vetted it?” He was trying his hardest to trust her, but it didn’t help that she could get a good night’s sleep beside rat traps.

“Yes. It belongs to a friend of mine.” 

“No bugs?”

“No bugs. But you’re going to have to get used to the mosquitoes here.”

“Mosquitoes?”

“A true blight that Fhirdiad’s high altitude shields you from. Just go ahead and kill them when you see them.” As if Felix needed her permission to kill something. Still, his arm tightened to pull her closer. “I’m half-joking. You’ll be fine.”

Felix muttered, “Don’t tease me right now,” as another person bumped against him.

It might have been a joke to Byleth, but by the time they made it to Claude’s flat, Felix did indeed have a bug bite right in between his knuckles.

From the outside, Derdriu kept it tight. Tall city buildings presented themselves according to neighborhood codes. Innocuous tan paint dominated the exteriors, accented with black and gold. The uniformity was appealing.

Byleth had told Felix that the flat was located above a little butcher market, but he had no idea how to get there.

“Through there?”

Felix was peering into a market where a large blond man was handling a cleaver with a fat skinless pig on the counter and a big ole grin on his face.

“No, through here,” Byleth stood in front of a concealed door Felix hadn’t even noticed, which was embarrassing for a security specialist. But he was on vacation. 

Once he took it in, he saw that it was two doors. One was a very large double-door gate affair, a relic from the use of horse-drawn carriages. The other was a tiny cut-out inside the larger door, meant for humans.

Byleth took out a large ornate key with only two teeth and turned it in the smaller door, which rose only to Felix’s browline.

“Why is the door so short?”

“It’s medieval.” She shrugged. “People were smaller back then. Watch your head.”

He ducked through the doorway.

Inside the courtyard, four floors of what were once servants quarters were converted into individual flats. Flower baskets hung from windows and vines twined the railings of spiraling stairs. The shutters of individual flats were painted in all the soft sorbet colors of the rainbow.

Felix took in a veritable cacophony: miniature fruit trees on porches, little bicycles leaning in the hallways, picnic tables still littered with playing cards.

“It’s a nice courtyard, isn’t it?”

“Now I understand how Fhirdiad must seem to you.” Aka, a stone-walled prison.

She grabbed his hand. “Fhirdiad’s beautiful. You just have to get past its cold exterior.”

His eyes slid sideways to her.

“Besides, Derdriu has its own share of problems. The infrastructure is a wreck and the people … aren’t so straight-forward. They also have a bit of a pirate problem.”

She led him up the staircase and through a hallway of twining iron banisters, where she inserted another outdated and ornate key into a wooden door.

Two floors above the butcher’s market, the little flat wasn’t much more than a small kitchen, a small bedroom, a tiny bathroom, yellow walls, and a vase of flowers on the table.

A large window allowed Felix to look down into a street teeming with jay-walkers. Gauzy curtains blew in and out, framing a sluggishly flowing canal. He could see where the locks pushed the waters through the canal into the wider estuary. The westering sun was crossing the broad inlet hot and yellow, lighting everything with gold.

“Where are we, Byleth?”

“Claude von Riegan’s city flat. Why?”

That wasn’t exactly what he meant. He was asking bigger questions:  
about the fairytale magic Byleth had brought into his life,  
about the land of golden tones outside the window,  
about the pastel-colored buildings inside the intimate courtyards,  
about the ice cream being devoured by adults and children alike,  
about and accordion-playing busker that they could hear through the window with a full tip jar and a small crowd singing along,  
about the couples walking one hand in each other’s pockets holding orange spritzers.

“Felix, what are you thinking?”

His finger traced the rim of the vase Claude had set out for them. On closer examination, the five green stems holding up the bright daisies were looking a little worse for wear. In another day they would be wilted.

“I think that, once I’m done with you tonight, there will many more impressive flowers in this apartment.”

Byleth flushed neon-rose, and Felix enjoyed the rare moment of making her flush, surprised to hear him talk like this. He could just about see her panties dropping down her legs. 

His satisfied eyes were darkening like someone was blowing black smoke on amber, and his lips were coming down to find her. Byleth lifted to meet him.

Heat was overrated. Felix’s mouth and handsy hands were cool like marble, and she wanted to grasp every part of him to chill down the fever burning up inside of her. Byleth pushed herself as much into his space as she could. _Let’s coexist_ , her breasts seemed to say against his chest. _Let’s meld_ , suggested her legs threading between his.

He pulled his head back and laughed against her ear. With a whisper like a singing blade, “I just love getting you going.”

“Are you—? Are we—?” Her hand slipped under his belt.

Felix smirked and stepped away. He removed his jacket and long-sleeve shirt. 

“Let’s walk around.” He was already shrugging on a teal short-sleeved shirt from his bag.

“Are you kidding?” She would have to dunk herself into the damn lagoon to stop throbbing if he didn’t do something to get her off soon.

“Get your mind out of the gutter. You promised to show me the sights.”

 _More like get her mind out of the canal_. But it was a wasted thought; she wasn’t in the mood to joke.

Port cities have a distinct odor of briny fish and half-preserved decay. They sound like sea-birds, creaking ropes, and voices echoing over the waters. Derdriu was a mercantile hot-spot with exotic goods from Almyra to Dagda. It bustled with a kaleidoscope of lifestyles from the merchant class of shopkeeps and bankers, to artisans, traders, sailors, and duplicitous politicians.

But it’s really the views that drew the tourists, and these were best seen from the Grand Canal.

The canal-walk was the heart of Derdriu. In the evening, lanterns reflected for meters across the waters. Chic-dressed city-dwellers carried their spritzers between cafes laughing melodically. Bridges spanned each crossing. With the canal locks closed, the waters were still enough to reflect the stars.

The Grand Canal fed into the broad estuary that locked Derdriu into the land. Similarly, the crowd of passersby fed onto the Ponto Stellato, a large bridge that connected the thin breakwater strip protecting the bay. The Ponto Stellato was lined with small shops, little more than artisans booths lofted with living spaces above.

Performers of all kinds had staked their places on the old bridge, putting on shows fit for a carnival. This was where the performers were born. The canals of Derdriu imbued its young with whim and vigor, with a heat that their bodies couldn’t contain. Derdriu townies expelled inspiration as pure steam.

People moved across the bridge—some bustled with purpose, others rushed to finish their late-night shopping. From lookouts, tourists took in panoramic views of the whole inlet: Peering from the lights on the water, they could watch the setting sun burn the land of Fraldarius.

How different it was from the land across the bay—the jagged stone of Fraldarius that could love so deeply when you managed to cut it with the right roots. Craggy silhouettes marred the late sun with a skyline of those familiar cliffs, as known to her now as the lines on Felix’s palm.

And then, the sun was down. Byleth stood in the middle of the gigantic bridge, her eyes raised to the sky. She counted the stars that began to twinkle one by one from the gloaming. She had made it to sixteen when Felix’s head eclipsed her view.

“You let your hair down,” Byleth said, tucking her fingers through it. Sometimes, when she touched his hair in the night, it looked so dark and glossy that she would check her hands for ink stains.

“Yeah, well, when in Derdriu…”

“When in Derdriu, indeed.”

Felix’s hands were in her hair too. He imagined each strand a vine from which to pluck flowers, as he brought his face to hers. He opened his mouth to unfold into her and his hair hung a curtain around them both.

A public public kiss on a public public bridge, before the stars and the lamps lit their path back to the little flat in the charming courtyard. And then, inside, Felix’s prophecy came to flower, as Byleth’s musical sighs vined the walls with sweet white trumpets and turned the walls all to gardens.

* * *

Outside the butcher’s market, Byleth was playing rocking boat songs on her viola, as the burly shopkeep laughed and clapped. Felix hung his head from the window to watch the scene. Passersby came to talk to her, to make requests.

Felix leaned against the wall where he could still hear her play. He ticked small items from his to-do list:  
checking in with Ashe about Blaiddyd,  
checking in with Ingrid about the state of Fhirdiad,  
checking in with Sylvain about how everyone else was holding up.

It wasn’t that Felix wanted to feel needed so much as useful. What’s a skill if you can’t use it? Everyone he called or texted said the same thing, though, that he should get back to enjoying his vacation. Really, he should.

He tugged a linen shirt over a pair of soft gray pants, secured only two concealed knives on his person, and went down to find his lady.

“What’s on the schedule for today?”

“A boat ride.” She straightened his collar, glad to see him casual. “It’s silly, but I’ve always wanted to do one. There’s a mosaic under each bridge, and I want to see them all.”

Felix’s stomach turned. Outside of time spent with the Fraldarian marines, he had never been partial to boats. In fact, he hadn’t spent much time in water, just around it.

Unlike the inlet of Sreng and the sheltered bay of Derdriu, the Fraldarian cliffs played a game of riptide pinball with the water, pushing back and forth against the inhospitable island in the center of the bay. It wasn’t the kind of place you went to for swim practice. There were other bodies of water in the highlands, including mountain lakes throughout Gautier territory. Felix didn’t relish swimming in those either, lest he catch hypothermia.

But Byleth loved boats, and Felix loved Byleth.

Besides, they had never gotten to be a normal couple, and once they were back in Fhirdiad, they never would get to be. So it was only fair that the best swordsman in Fodlan and one of the most powerful faith magic users on the continent get to do some good normal tourist shit too.

She had rented a small rowboat. The canal’s lock-system made piloting the boat a simple and foolproof process, as it flowed its course almost automatically.

Blue-green waters moved beneath them. They were the color that would happen if you splashed water paint the color of Felix’s hair and paint the color of Byleth’s hair into a porcelain plate, and let them blend naturally. 

The brackish water caused the colors. Where fresh water from the inland river flowed into the canals and hit the sunlight, it created a clear aquamarine that allowed Byleth to peer into the algae-ridden canal floor. However, once they passed a cloud of dense saline water pushed in by the bay tides, the water grew more difficult to see through.

These semi-opaque clouds of a gray-green reminded Byleth of clouds passing through the canal, as if the water and the sky had reversed itself and she was looking down into a secret eternity. It was a bottomless nature, specific to this foreign land. And her mind simply could not process the depth that she felt then; it was an illusion, and it was also the only true thing, deep as love.

“Want to hear something stupid?” Byleth’s voice echoed slightly from below a small pedestrian bridge, and she pointed her finger out to the next bridge ahead of them. “Supposedly, if you kiss someone under that bridge—the bridge of sighs—you’ll have eternal love.”

“Absurd.” Felix looked sickly over the edge of the boat, “What happens when you die?”

“You find each other in the next life.”

“Seems like a liability.”

“I agree. What if you’re doomed to be enemies in your next life?”

“Have you ever done it with someone?”

“Kissed under the bridge?” Felix nodded, he was still looking down into the water and biting his cheek. “No.”

“Do you want to—?”

“—to be in love eternally?” She laughed poison through his veins. That feeling—he’d elect to feel it forever if he could.

“I can’t say that I believe in it,” he said, looking up at her. “But I do want to see the underside of that bridge.”

It was coming up over them, elegant with diamond windows, and then they were beneath it.

“Look up.”

Felix’s hair dripped down his back as he raised his head to see the stars on the ceiling. The mosaic had a trim gilded with that glinting golden sand color that was all over Derdriu. Unlike most of the bridges which depicted images of the seasons and gave each moon of Fodlan a story to tell, this mosaic was all stars.

“What do you think?” Byleth asked.

“I like it.” Even though he knew they were on the water, it was like hiking outside and turning your eyes up to see how big the world becomes at night.

“This isn’t even the most impressive bridge. The Ponto Stellato, the one with all the shops, has mosaics that tell Derdriu’s entire history, including—”

“Byleth,” he said, as they neared the center of the bridge. “Stop talking for a second.”

Felix leaned to her side of the boat and brushed her lips with his. Normally, Felix’s kissing was a chase with a destination in mind; this kiss, however, asked a question— _An eternity with Byleth? An eternity in love?_

 _I’m game if you are_ , her response seemed to say, as she opened her mouth to let him unravel into her.

As she opened up, with the gilded stars overhead, he found himself trying to memorize a map of her soft inner lips, taking an impression of the contours of her palate. Deepening the kiss, Byleth met him with all the silent answers to all her biggest riddles, a sensation she would gladly drown in.

She burned and pressed, as he began dipping her back toward the edge of the rowboat. He dipped her lower and lower over the side, while he grasped for her soft hair. Every centimeter she bowed lower, was a centimeter higher that her glorious breasts raised. He imagined them wet covered with water, reflecting beads dripping from her nipples.

He wouldn’t have to imagine for long. The poor fool had forgotten how boats work.

He could only think of kissing her deeper. He could only hope to love her forever in that disgustingly saccharine-sweet storybook way. 

“Felix,” she said into his mouth, and when she pulled back, there was only one place for her to go, which was down toward the water. “We’re rocking the boat—”

Green water had filled in around their feet.

“—we’re tipping!” 

_Aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh—_

The little boat capsized into the lagoon. 

Byleth rose to the surface. Her mouth, which was still open from the kiss when she fell, was making undignified squawking sounds as she spat out the filthy water.

Felix came up for air beside her, hair lumping in his face, as he grimaced and spat.

He wasn’t expecting it when Byleth embraced him legs first and began clinging to him with her whole body. Tendrils of their hair floated in the brackish water, mixing and mingling now that they had lost the restrictions of gravity.

“Um, can you help paddle us,” he said. His face was burning poppy-red, between the wet contact with every one of Byleth’s perfect curves revealed, and the buoyant breasts that kept rising toward him, and the public public canal, and his own foolishness in tipping the boat…

“Okay! Quit waving your arms like that! Don’t you know how to swim?”

Byleth taught Felix how to kick with his feet in an amateur doggy-paddle. It was the least elegant thing Byleth had ever seen him do. She would have died of laughter if it didn’t mean risking more lagoon water in her mouth.

She led him to the edge of the canal where a set of steps led up from the closest lock. Pulling each other from the water, their clothes molded against their bodies. Felix was looking at Byleth head-to-toe—drowned green hair like deflated sea-weed, kind face and wry-mouthed, mercilessly perky breasts that were pressing against a translucent shirt, and oh no, she was evidently cold and he had nothing to offer her and—

Just as Felix was ogling her, she scrutinized him right back—his own wet shirt was demonstrating the strap that kept his favorite knife close to his hip, and soaked pants showed a set of knives gartered around his left leg.

He grabbed and hugged Byleth almost for the sake of modesty: to keep her from looking at him that way, to keep anyone else from looking at her chest.

Yet the people of Derdriu were mostly disinterested. They had seen it all before, including two idiots getting a little too frisky on a boat and falling into the canal.

Byleth began laughing. When she let go like this, she laughed with her whole body. The sound rang out like chimes into the air, growing a lily pad that popped up in the canal and opened a wide pink flower.

Felix kissed her to shut her up.

But when Byleth tried to deepen it, he hissed, “I’m not kissing you while you’re soaked in lagoon water.”

“But you already did!” The salt brine was crinkling his hair. To the touch, he was more brittle than ever.

“Fine,” he huffed into her lips, despite the danger that arousal currently posed with his clothes all wet and sticking to him and _ahhhhhhh_ , “—Salty.”

Somehow the briny taste of Byleth’s mouth was the perfect spike for Felix’s imagination. He thought of her under him, mouth biting his shoulder as he licked the salt from her neck. He thought of grabbing a chilled nipple and making her call out his name.

“Back to the room, now.”

“Good idea,” Byleth said, deliberately not looking as his boner, as she began wringing her hair out into the canal.

Oh goddess, did she have to bend over like that?

Felix thought of disgustingly unerotic things: lagoon water, he reminded himself, crabs scuttling across the bottom of the canal, that old man over there missing both his incisors leering at him and Byleth, work, desks, offices, Byleth’s morning breath, his morning breath—was it working yet?

Byleth looked at him sideways in a way that told him she knew exactly what was going through his head.

“Come on,” she said, “I know a back way so we don’t have to walk along the busy canal.” Felix nodded, jaw tight.

As they walked, a breeze blew in from the sea, changing the temperature situation in a matter of moments. They both began shivering in their wet clothes and drawing closer together.

“Your hands are turning blue.” Byleth looked over at her poor drowned swordsman with his hair sticking up in salty tangles.

“I’m cold,” he said tightly.

She picked up his hand and brought it to her mouth. As she hummed a song against his hand, Felix felt warmth re-enter his muscles and bones, a small campfire that would grow larger and stronger as you fed it.

They made it back to the flat just as the sun was beginning to set. Some parts of them had dried down to light dampness. Felix noticed that Byleth's chest was still looked wet, from the multiple layers of material lining her breasts.

“You can take first shower,” she said, twirling her damp hair around her finger. “I can wait.”

Felix singed dark, burnt caramel eyes into her. He shook his head; some inchoate desire was stuck in his throat.

Byleth blanked. “Are you okay?” Was he angry or just flustered?

He grabbed her arm and pulled her into the bathroom with him.

The old flat had a teensy bathroom. To occupy it together, they had to press quite close, which is what they did. Felix was looking at Byleth with all the raging desire of a virgin at the prom with all the know-how of someone who had imagined this very scene every night for a year.

“I’ll start the water. Take your clothes off.”

Steam was rolling upward across the shower curtain, when Byleth, completely bare, stepped up behind Felix and began undoing his clothes. Her patience ran out with the first few buttons of his shirt, and she yanked the starchy fabric over his head.

More steam rolled through the small bathroom as she began working on his pants. They were so sodden and stretched out from the swim, they fell around his ankles as soon as she had the zipper undone. The straps that held his knives came next, and once they were both bare, Felix whisked them into the tub.

They stood together under the showerhead, as the water came down into their hair softening it again.

They weren’t strangers, not anymore. By now, they knew each other inside and out. There was something different about this, though.

When her body was wet from shower water, all the surfaces glinted and glowed as they reflected the water. It highlighted the ridges of muscle and the lines of bones, the deliberate infrastructure that made up Byleth’s body.

Felix was composed of lines—hardened muscle like a relief of shale-like cliffs, a scar on his abdomen that Byleth knew he was sensitive about until he wasn’t, a scar on his shoulder from their recent battles. Add to this that Felix always managed to stand in a perfect contrapposto, drawing attention to his chest, his legs, and oh, his—uh—his hips.

All it took was him cupping one of her breasts, as he skimmed his thumb up and down the nipple, to get her pulsing. All it took was for him to smile at her devilishly like he knew what he was doing to her, to make her retaliate by reaching for him, her tongue coming out with thirst and finding nothing but shower water.

Because Felix was doing something she hadn’t expected. He was slowly kneeling in the shower, pressed so close that Byleth could feel his lips skimming her body as he went down.

He began licking, lips and tongue moving against her clit as the hot water trickled down. If Byleth could think, she would have been awed at just how much power one single bundle of nerves had to control everything about her—from the full-body blush that he was evoking, and the breathy sighs that were just beginning to rev up from her throat to the soft shakes that were beginning to tremor through her legs.

Felix looked up at her from below. The steam made auras of his amber eyes, as he removed his mouth from her clit to give her a deliberate smirk, before he moved his hand up inside her. It wasn’t long before he had Byleth dancing like a puppet on his hand.

“Say my name,” he said.

It took her a few tries to say anything coherent at all and then she got it. The first syllable “Fe—” came out like a curse, until it rose in pitch with each passing letter, “Feliiix.” He pulled his face away from her and grinned as a cat-tail grew from a tile just outside of the shower. By the time Byleth was whimpering and her legs were tremoring a 7.0 on the Richter scale, Felix mercifully pulled her down to him.

Slippery, she slid right onto his cock. It was so fast, it made his eyes water and his mouth dropped open to catch shower water that trickled out the sides. He grabbed her hair, pulling her head back and exposing her throat. His fingers went in her mouth, deep enough to just edge along her gag reflex, as she gyrated on top of him, riding out her last climax before beginning to work on a new one.

He was all up in her system, and she was so overextended that her feet were cramping and she couldn’t tell what hurt and what felt good.

Scratch that, it all felt good.

“Up,” Felix said when the rhythm became too predictable. Still shaking, he helped stabilize her as they rose.

Hazy from the lack of blood in his brain, Felix was surveying their options when Byleth had already turned her back to him and leaned her arms against the tiled wall of the shower. She barely had to wiggle her ass in invitation before he was already taking her from behind.

It didn’t take much at all to get her moaning this time, each sigh musical. A round green leaf was growing in the inch of water that had yet to drain from the bathtub. It grew rounder and thickened until it was recognizable.

“A waterlily, Byleth?” Felix said once he had thrust deep enough into her that he could lean close to her ear. His hips paused as he took in the spectacle.

Byleth didn’t look back. Her face was in the flow from the showerhead. Water was running down into her mouth before dripping back out.

“Felix,” she breathed, “don’t stop.” Her voice was grilled from the sensation of the pressures inside of her, that undefinable vibration.

It shut him up.

A large round bud began growing and swelling on the waterlily.

Felix took orders and kept up his side of the rhythm, one hand grasping her across the chest as the other moved down her pelvis to press her nerves again. It was his turn to play her like a musical instrument, and the sounds she made didn’t disappoint.

He was bringing her near to collapse again, and this time he was coming with her. “Ready?” he asked breathlessly over her shoulders, and she nodded backing up onto him so he had no choice but to accept his little death.

_—Stars exploding in the sky. Bridges collapsing across the canals. A brief memory that they had kissed under the bridge that, legend has it, would bind them together forever.—_

They let themselves slowly collapse onto the tub floor together. The showerhead strove its hardest to wash away all manner of crimes from their bodies. Once they were willing to move again, they picked up soap to sud each other and wash away the remaining lagoon from each other’s hair. They pressed each other’s fresh, clean skin with kisses.

Feeling, clean and shiny and new, Byleth found Felix looking at her in a contemplative way that told her the blood had returned to his brain. “What is it?”

“I just don’t want our adventures to end.”

Byleth laughed, and the flower on the lily pad she had created earlier bloomed. “I’m glad you said something. I don’t want that either. I was afraid I was being selfish.”

“You feel the same way?”

“Of course I do. With you by my side though, I think we’ll find new adventures.”

* * *

A hand-written note taped to the fridge of Claude von Reigan’s city flat:

  
Dear Claude,

Thank you for letting us stay in your flat.

While we were here, Felix noticed the following security risks:

\- You have two windows that are painted open (don’t know how you managed this). They won’t close all the way.  
\- Large keys with a single notch are extremely romantic and give a nice fairytale vibe, but according to Felix, they are outdated and insecure.  
\- We noticed we were being watched through the kitchen window by an older man in the next flat over. This became a concern since we were in a rather compromising position at the time. Or, well, Felix was compromised—I had everything completely under control. Anyway, Felix recommends tinting the window in the future.

I have added a few plants to make you feel right at home. If you want the water lily in the bathroom to last, however, you should check the pH of its water at least once a week.

All our best and if you ever need anything in Fhirdiad,  
Byleth

P.S. Your water heater is a real keeper—very hot, so steamy, and it can last for ages. I’ve never known a water heater with such stamina—very satisfying—exactly what you want in a hot water heater.

**Author's Note:**

> Calling myself out here but it makes me chuckle every time:
> 
> “To put it simply, crudely, in porn movies, before you can see a healthy screw you have to put up with a documentary that could be sponsored by the Traffic Bureau.”  
> —Umberto Eco, from “How to Recognize a Porn Film"
> 
> Thanks for reading!!


End file.
